It seems to me that time really does fly (so much so that if I ever catch the little blighter I'll clip its wings). By this of course I mean that its already Adventure time again. It feels as if I have only just sent out part 2, but I can't complain for it means that since part 2 I have enjoyed enough adventures to fill this further issue. So my dear readers, we had better get started for fear that we would otherwise be overtaken by part 4.
I left off last time telling you of my departure from the English-ish Victoria heading for Tofino. I didn't mention however, due to my excitement over recounting tails of whales, that whilst in Victoria I had another of those chance meetings. Well, I say chance meetings but perhaps that isn't strictly true as I knew that Ian and Darren (who I met in Calgary) were heading towards Vancouver Island but I had expected to stay ahead of them. It was only due to my extended stay in Victoria that they had caught me up and seeing as they had and that they were heading next to Tofino, we travelled there together. The journey there was particularly lovely as we passed through dense forests and spent a great deal of time circumnavigating Lake Kenedy which our driver told us is the largest lake on the island, although on a map I saw later it didn't look the largest. A couple of things about Vancouver Island that those of you who haven't looked it up on a map might not have realised is that this is no tiny island, in fact it is at least as big as England, consequently our bus ride lasted 5.5 hours. Another nugget of information I remember reading somewhere is that the island isn't a fragment of the mainland as it formed (volcanically) separately and somewhat before the rest of the continent. Consequently there are subtle differences in the landscape.
Tofino is a pretty tiny town (I would call it a village but the Canadians like the Australians don't seem to use this term). Its a pretty place in a gorgeous natural setting which attracts many tourists, in addition to which I am told the locals have the good sense to keep it that way rather than profiteering through developments that would destroy its charm. Having checked in to the rather expensive and unduly plush hostel there was time to do a little exploring before the day was over. A short walk out of town brought me to a slightly wobbly board walk and a set of wooden steps through the lush green mossy coastal forest and down on to the small but picture perfect Tonquin Beach. The sky was clear, the sun was getting low and the calm ocean was slowly receding leaving rock pools full of huge green sea anemones to explore. You know this travelling lifestyle can involve some very long cramped bus journeys and the odd dodgy hostel not to mention a diet containing far too many instant noodles but there are reasons why we do it, with this scene being but one.
I was hoping as I set off rather early the next morning to find another of these reasons and to fulfil one of my primary goals whilst in Canada. Having been too late the evening before to book my place on a trip I hurried across town to see if there were places spare. Fortunately my haste was rewarded and shortly after arriving I was once again donning a life jacket suit (this one bright red) and making my way down to the harbour. The boat this time was a smaller flat bottomed affair with far less power than the zodiac I had been whale watching in. This craft however was ideal for our task. On our way to our destination we paused by a tiny island where with the aid of binoculars I got to see (my first) Bald Eagles. They were busily picking through morsels of food hidden in the rocks of the small beach that bordered the island on which they nested. It was great to see them especially as I had not been expecting to but these rare birds were not why we were out in a boat. Continuing across the bay we reached one of a number of sections of stony shoreline revealed by the low tide and backed by dark forest. It was here, once again rummaging for food, that we beheld our prize. The creatures in question were (wild) black bears. The advantage of our particular craft was that it allowed us to get in very close to the shore and therefore the bears. This is seemed was in no way concerning (nor even of interest) to the bears who ignored us entirely. It was great to watch and photograph them. Oddly the first beach we found them on had two bears on as they usually operate alone, that said they didn't pay each other any more attention than they paid us. Later we toured a bit more of the coast and found a curiously energetic young bear who was effortlessly pawing huge rocks down the beach as if they were pebbles in order to get to the fish and crabs he could smell beneath.
Sadly I couldn't spend the whole day watching the bears and so in the afternoon I set off out of town to find some more of the local beaches. I found another tiny secluded beach called Middle Beach that was so secluded that I actually felt I was intruding (which I wasn't). Later I found the much larger and busier Chesterman Beach. I very much enjoyed wandering lazily along in the hot sun staring out over the placid ocean but it occur to me that this was a bit un-Canadian. I didn't feel like I was in Canada at all but it was still brilliant, I think I am developing a love of the coast that I don't recall having before. All good things (sadly) come to an end and although I would have liked to stay in Tofino longer the cost of the place persuaded me to head back to the western coast of the island to the town on Nanaimo. The journey there in a packed mini-bus wasn't helped by a noisy toddler fidgeting next to me the whole way but it wasn't all bad as just as we were driving out of town I see another black bear wandering along the roadside.
Nanaimo when approached by land doesn't give a good first impression. Its all a little built-up and industrial so I was glad I had only planned to stay one night before getting a boat back to Vancouver the next day. I checked in to the hostel and was pleased to discover that it was a proper old fashioned backpacker place. It was small and really just a converted house, all rather relaxed and cosy with a lot of character. Once settled I tried to do some organising for my return to Vancouver only to discover that the hostel there was booked solid and so it turned out I would be staying in Nanaimo for an extra day. After this minor setback I headed out to explore the town and was glad to discover that not quite all of Nanaimo was rubbish. A great deal of effort had been put in to the harbour area which was lined with parks, sculptures and trendy little shops. Unfortunately this harbour was the shining white jewel in an ugly concrete crown and I really wished I didn't have a second day to waste there. One advantage of this delay was that Ian and Darren whom I had left in Tofino caught up once more and as the temperature had shot up to 35C we managed to idle away the day lazing around in the hostel garden. When at last the time came to leave Nanaimo behind our merry backpacker trio set off into another scorching day to get the high speed catamaran direct to Vancouver. It was an OK journey and the conditions were dead calm but I must say I prefer the ferry ride not just for the views but also as I like to wander about outside on boats. I was only to be back in Vancouver for a minimal amount of time to make some more plans and to drop in on some of my BUNAC-er friends living there, for what would probably be the last time before heading east across the country. That said I wasn't actually going to be heading east immediately as I had yet to go to Whistler, partly because from a bus route perspective its a dead end.
My first task in Whistler was to walk for almost an hour with my pack on to get to the rather remote hostel. The walk fortunately was along one of the towns paved walking tracks through the trees and not along the road and I am glad to say that my backpack carrying stamina held out the whole way. The hostel was in an excellent location (apart from its distance from everything else) right on the lake side with huge picture windows so you could sit and look out over the lake while you had your breakfast. One problem with the place was that a church group had booked it out for the weekend so after 2 nights I had to make the return journey to town and then out the other side to a place that I think the rest of Whistler is rather unhappy about. The place in question is called the 'Shoestring Lodge' and its a converted motel attached to a liquor store and a bar thats a strip club on week nights. This is definitely not an image the rest of the town wants anything to do with. You see, Whistler is an odd place, until relatively recently (when they extended the highway right up to it) there wasn't much there. Now its Canada's finest four season ski resort and as far as I can see the place was custom built to take money from tourists and they're not too subtle about it either. The town (which for marketing purposes they call a 'village') is a toy town, a theme park, a gingerbread house nestled in a perfect location and poised to offer you everything you never wanted at three times the going rate. So as you can imagine it suited me about as well as a neon pink miniskirt would. So why did I go there? Well, everyone else I had spoken to who had been there had thought it was great, so I suppose 'they' are right when they say it takes all sorts. Anyway I busied myself seeking out anything there was to do in the area that was free. This basically meant walking the many trails around the lakes and forests along the valley. Now to be fair these were pretty good, but then I am not criticising the natural surroundings as they are gorgeous (not quite the Rockies but still). Having tired of the low ground I enquired at the info centre about walking on the mountains but was told that they were still being skied on so I couldn't. This didn't make any sense as the only part they were still skiing on was the glaciers right at the top, you couldn't even see any snow from town. Anyway I was redirected to the valley trails and it was emphasised that there were over 30km of them. 30k's I though, 30 piffling kilometres, I had 2 days to fill and had done more than half of this already. So I filled in the gaps whilst getting a comprehensive drenching as the clouds had descended to deliver their payload at close range.
Due to the bus route issue after Whistler I had to return to Vancouver but I would be there for less than 12 hours before setting off again. It was at this point that I had originally planned to start the long journey east to Toronto but at the last minute an idea of pure whimsy that I had been toying with finally gained dominance and I instead turned my gaze north for what is certainly the biggest detour I have ever taken. Long before I came to Canada I had of course passed a casual eye over maps of the place, occasionally pausing over towns in the remote areas and thinking 'it would be cool to go there' without knowing any reason for doing so. Almost immediately after thinking this the logical part of my brain would dismiss it out of hand. There remained two places however that weren't so easy to dismiss. The first of these was Churchill on account of it being a place where polar bears can be seen. Further research in to this unfortunately revealed the incredible cost of such an excursion and it was also unlikely that I would be in the area at the right time of year. With Churchill off the list there was only one place left, it would be a round trip of over 5300km, its the capital of the Yukon, its Whitehorse.
So what was the attraction? Well partly it was so I can say I have been to the Yukon, and I do like to get to the places your average backpacker doesn't reach. I think the main reason though was just to get as far off the beaten track as I possibly could. In addition to this it would also be the furthest north I have ever been, knocking St.Petersburg off the top spot. The decision to go having been made there was just one small hurdle yet to clear and that was actually getting there. There was a bus and it took 44.5 hours, yes, almost two whole days to get there. I bought some provisions, got on the bus and tried to get comfy. Three hours later it was raining hard, we had cleared the vast Vancouver sprawl and had started to make good progress when an odd blessing in disguise came my way. The disguise came in the form of the annual random vehicle inspection checks. Our bus was found to have a problem with one of its breaks that was causing something to rub against a tyre and damage it. We were moved out of everyones way while we awaited the arrival of the tyre replacement guy. Unfortunately he was unable to fix it so we then waited for the mechanic to turn up. This all took 2.5 hours and probably doesn't sound like much of a blessing but you see I was going to have to change buses when we reached Prince George and wait around for 3.5 hours for the privilege. So it suited me just fine and I was quite glad I didn't have to hang around in the dingy and crowded Prince George waiting room in the middle of the night. From Prince George everything went according to plan all the way to Dawson Creek (which has nothing to do with the TV show of a similar name) where I had another 2 hour wait for the final bus to take me on the last leg to Whitehorse. The scenery all the way had been superb and not always what I had expected, for as well as the usual mountains, rivers and forests there was grassland and even gently rolling hills. It reminded me of Yorkshire without the heather or perhaps the South Downs, there was even an area of crumbling grey mountainsides similar to those outside Lima. The best bit of the ride was without doubt the final section because as the evening approached the animals became more active and could be seen along the roadside. In fact it became a bit of a Canadian safari as we passed deer, buffalo, a huge moose, a trio of young dal's sheep and more black bears! This one journey had almost shown me my whole list of 'must see' wildlife, the only ones left were grizzlies and beavers.
When at long last we arrived in Whitehorse it was 4:30am and already quite light. Even though it is a fair way south of the arctic circle therefore not being in true 'midnight sun' territory they still get a good twenty hours of daylight near midsummer. I hauled on my backpack, checked my legs hadn't atrophied in the last two days and set off in to the slightly eerie dawn light. The hostel was small and definitely not 24 hour reception so when I arrived I found a note taped to the front door with my name on it. It explained which bed I was allocated so I crept in and crashed out for 4 glorious hours of horizontal sleep. Seeing as I had to get up at 9am to officially check in to the hostel I decided to set off and explore the town. This place may be the capital of the Yukon and the Yukon may be a huge area but Whitehorse isn't a sprawling and bustling metropolis. Its more like a quiet country town with no skyscrapers needed to accommodate its 23000 population. Speaking of skyscrapers brings me on nicely to one of th towns peculiarities as dotted about are a number of 'wooden skyscrapers'. These naturally don't scrape the sky and are a fraction twee and readily dwarfed by neighbouring shops but they are multistory wooden houses. It isn't wholly established as to why they were built as during the early days of the settlement there would have been acres of space to build low and wide rather than narrow and tall.
Whitehorse is situated on the Yukon River and was a vital settlement on the route further north during gold rush days. To transport prospectors up and down the river they built paddle steamers, the largest of these was the SS Klondike which now resides on the riverbank. I took a tour of this sizable craft which has been restored having spent some time at the bottom of the river. The thing that struck me most about the boat was the incredible amount of wood it could get through, a log about 4 foot long and a foot thick had to be chucked in to the furnace every minute.
Despite being so far north the summer weather was really rather pleasant and not at all cold. Deciding to make the most of it I set off to walk the trail around Schwatka Lake passing along the way the worlds longest fish ladder. I wandered happily along amongst the small blue dragon flies and jumping crickets soaking up the glorious view, clean air and peace and quiet. This lasted for about two hours when I arrived at an odd wooden and cable bridge over Miles Canyon. Unfortunately after this point the path followed the road back to town which I though was rather a pity. Back at the hostel I bumped in to some English folk and having won their favour by supplying them with Yorkshire pudding I joined them on a trip to sample Whitehorse's nightlife. We found our way to a large dark local bar called the Lizard Lounge where they had live country music. It was all good fun and odd to walk back home afterwards and it still be light. It was fortunate that I had made these new friends as some of them would be travelling back to Vancouver the same day as me and so we would be able to keep each other company for the two day return trip. Before leaving Whitehorse however there remained something I had to do; to get a slightly unusual souvenir. The article in question was a copy of the local newspaper the 'Whitehorse Daily Star'. So whats all that about then? Well, before leaving England while I was trying to plan where I would go in Canada I looked up Whitehorse on the internet. One of the first pages the search engine found was the homepage for the Whitehorse Daily Star. So what? Well, something none of you aught to know is that I have a curious liking for small town local newspapers. I acquired this oddness through years of perusing the Ilkley Gazette and is based on a mild amusement I find in the reporting of the sort of news that wouldn't interest the world at large. At the time I found the website I doubted I would ever get to Whitehorse but I said to myself that if I ever did I would have to get a copy to bring back. I am glad I chose that particular day to buy it as the heartwarming cover story detailed the capture and return to the wild of a hoary marmot that had turned up in some old ladies garden. So with that safely tucked away in my pack it was time to say goodbye to a town that I had grown curiously fond of in such a short time. The return journey whilst more pleasant for the company left me no less glad to get off in Vancouver. Here I dallied for an extra day before saying goodbye to my travelling companions and goodbye to Vancouver for the final time. It was at last time for me to leave the west behind and embark on another enormously long bus journey right across the country to the east. This journey would be broken up though as I would first be stopping in those places I had missed earlier in my trip due to bus ticket problems and of course then there were the prairies (as they're sometimes called) to cross.
All of this will have to wait though as I must now draw this issue to a close. So dear readers, until part 4 when the adventure continues.
David.